The Things They Cannot Say
by rain-streaked
Summary: You're living in a world where twos dominate, no matter how hard you try. So don't try, don't try, and just accept it. (Sakura; SasuNaru hints)


(let's pretend that nothing ever happened - that Sasuke never ran away)

THE THINGS THEY CANNOT SAY  
They put into actions instead.

You know this; you've seen them, the way they walk around each other. The way they laugh around each other. It's light, easy, and so wrapped up in hidden meanings that it's out in plain daylight.

Once, you wished you could have those laughs. Once, you wished that the world didn't revolve around twos so that you could squeeze in - shove open a space for you, so that _you two_ could become _you three_.

But boys will be boys, and everyone knows that boys try to be tough and strong and independent (well, most of them anyway - Shikamaru could be an exception). That's why you're training with Kakashi-sensei, twisting and turning your body fluidly to obey your thoughts. That's why you're dodging kunai and tossing your own; that's why you're desperately trying not to stare at the two boys that have always occupied your heart and mind.

"Sakura-chan," Kakashi-sensei teases you, popping out from around a tree. You stumble to the ground, too tired to yell at him. Instead, you divert your gaze to Sasuke and Naruto, who are fighting as if their lives were hanging at the edge. You know that it's true. That with them, everything is life and death.

Your silver-haired instructor (sometimes you catch yourself wanting to run your hands through the strands; see if they're soft and silky or rough and coarse) tries to smile with only one eye. It fails horribly, looking more like a smug smirk than an actual smile, but that's okay because you know what he's trying to do. You laugh and share a smile with him (extra bright; he needs a smile for himself, too) and accept his hand. He doesn't pull you up, though. You stand up on your own, and his hand's just there for support, as it always has been. It's a two thing, you suppose.

"They're two of a kind, aren't they?" Kakashi-sensei asks, and you look over at your teammates (sparring, again - punching and kicking and waving long swords around as if it was just another arm) and try to keep the smile on your face.

"Two of a kind," you agree, and curse the number.

You've had a lot of time to think about this. While you're bathing or training with Ino (sometimes only, though - other times with Rock Lee, though you have absolutely no time to think or even talk), twos are always on your mind.

Everyone is a part of a pair. You and Ino - best friends (right? you've experimented with her, fumbling like adolescents learning to be themselves), you and Rock Lee - who knows what you two are, really, you and Kakashi-sensei (teacher-student, no matter how strange your dreams get), you and your mother, you and your father.

And you know, and understand, that Ino's part of another pair. Her and Chouji - her and Shikamaru - her and Asuma-sensei, to name a few. Rock Lee has his own half to uphold, too.

Actually, you're a part of a pair with Sasuke and Naruto, too. You and Sasuke - self-appointed best friend, you and Naruto - self-appointed big sister (Naruto almost cried when you told him this. Almost). But all pairs are supposed to be equal, and each half of a pair needs to pull their own, equal weight. Really, that's what you figured out.

You've noticed that Sasuke and Naruto have their own little pair, and nothing - not even themselves - can break it. Nothing else is worth more.

It hurts you a lot, truth be told, but it's just something you've gotten used to.

So that's why you're used to seeing Sasuke and Naruto argue and fight. That's why you can start the smile with a day, knowing that when you reach the bridge, Naruto will smile at you and yell your name and that Sasuke will shoot a glare at Naruto and then at you (Sasuke's glare is softer around the edges when he looks at you, but when he looks at Naruto the meaning doesn't matter anymore).

That's why you can wait for your slow-but-not-quite-lazy teacher for three hours, staring at the clouds and at Sasuke and at the creek that runs below the bridge. That's why you can yell at your teacher loudly, in perfect synch with Naruto, about lateness and rudeness and always feel good inside.

That's why, when you turn a wrong corner and see a flash of yellow hair, you don't go chasing after it. Because you know. Know that if you follow, you'll see Naruto and Sasuke living in their own little world of two, anchoring the other firmly into the ground. And when you were a bit younger, it would have hurt you so much that you'd go run towards the training grounds, your way blurred with tears, and crash onto the ground and force yourself to do one thousand push-ups.

But you're older now, and you're smart enough to know that masochistic behaviour won't change the fact that you saw, first hand, how much Sasuke needed Naruto and not you. You know that nothing will change that fact, that nothing will suddenly replace your green eyes with his, your pink hair with his yellow, your sad smile with his brighter-than-the-sun one.

Nowadays, you try to capture little tidbits of the day, when no one's in a separate world, where everyone is free and clear and experiencing a moment where there's no lines to define what they were.

You've been getting better at spotting the perfect moments.

"Sakura," Kakashi-sensei says. "That's all for today." You look up into your instuctor's face and notice that the evening is falling.

The summer wind breezes through, and as you watch Naruto and Sasuke settle down after a long fight (sitting on the grass, back to back, panting for breath) and feel Kakashi-sensei's one-eyed gaze (it sees more than a normal person would with two eyes) piercing your back, you feel content and whole, because this is the only time when the four of you can slip into your own little world, a world where numbers aren't everything.

Naruto laughs, and the sound's carried up to the fading sky.

12/15/04


End file.
